


Gifts for Thomas

by Once_More_With_Feeling



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Flowers, Gifts, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 18:40:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7725469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Once_More_With_Feeling/pseuds/Once_More_With_Feeling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two instances when the women in Thomas' life are kind to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gifts for Thomas

**1925**

April

He turned and left Mr. Carson's pantry with the flower in his right hand. Mr. Carson had given it to him, but only begrudgingly. Was it right to wear it now, knowing the groom really didn't want him to have it? He stopped in the middle of the hallway and considered the flower, a white rose, with heather tied to it. He wondered if he shouldn't just throw it in the dust bin, or perhaps give it to one of the hallboys--someone Carson liked better than him?

A voice, and heels clicking on the stone floor, pulled him from his sad musings. "Thomas?" she asked softly, ducking her head just a little as she spoke. She seemed to be coming from just outside the butler's pantry; had she heard Mr. Carson say he wanted all the men to have flowers except for him?

"Yes, _Miss Baxter_?" he answered, pulling himself up to his full height, and pointedly using her proper title, so as to remind her that she should use his, as well.

She stopped in front of him, and made that face she so often did--was it a smile or a frown? She did it when she felt sympathy for him, and it annoyed him. "What is it?" he asked impatiently.

"It's that flower," she answered. "I only came to say that you don't need it." And with that, before he could understand what she was doing, she plucked the flower from his hands and unceremoniously threw it aside, to the ground.

"Wh--?" he stuttered. Did she think he didn't deserve one, too? "Mr. Carson said I could have--"

"But as I said, you don't need it." And then there she was, standing in front of him, with her own little white flower, holding it up for him to see. Where did she get it? It was as though she had magically pulled it from thin air, like some sort of terrific joke. What on earth was she about?

She kept her eyes on the flower as she pinned it to his lapel. "It's a gardenia," she said, softly. "I made it for you, special." He stood there, paralyzed before her, and let her pin the flower to his jacket. He closed his eyes, though he knew that only made it more likely that the tears there might fall. Why was she so kind to him? Surely she knew he didn't deserve such kindness.

She finished pinning the flower, and stepped back just slightly to admire her work. She fingered the soft greenery she had tied to the gardenia, and didn't take her eyes off the boutonniere as she continued to speak. "And do you know why I added the greens?" she asked, her voice soft. He only shook his head. "Because my name-- _Phyllis_ \--means 'a green bough.'" She looked up into his teary eyes as she said her own name. "And then you'll remember that this is for you, from me."

He knew he should say thank you. He knew he should kiss her cheek, and acknowledge how kind she was, how kind she had always been to him, in spite of everything. But he couldn't. If he opened his mouth, he would cry. If he looked at her, he would fall to pieces. The best he could do was look into her brown eyes for an instant--an instant only--and then turn to leave. As he did though, she reached up and touched his cheek. And the look on her face said everything.

 _I know_ , her eyes said silently. _I know_.

She knew he was grateful, and that was enough for today.

 

September

"Mr. Barrow?" Anna's voice called down the hallway. "Oh, I'm glad I caught you before you've gone out. I have something for you."

Thomas had just removed his coat and hat from the peg and shelf near the servants' entrance downstairs, but had yet to put them on. He looked up to see Anna smiling at him, and expected her to continue to walk toward him, but she stopped at the bottom of the stairs, seemingly waiting for him. He looked at her expectantly, until she said, "Well come here, then," her face playful.

He wasn't sure what she was getting at. What could she possibly have for him? Curiosity got the better of him, though, and he walked toward her. In her hands she held a small package, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string. As he approached her, she took his coat from him and draped it over the banister of the stairs, then took his hat in her hand. She handed him the package, and he raised an eyebrow. "Well, open it, silly."

Of course. When someone gives you a package, you open it. He knew that. Slowly he untied the string, and the package seemed to fall open of its own accord. Inside, he was surprised to find a soft, blue, hand-knitted scarf. Was this for him?

"I made it for you, special," she said, trying to catch his eye.

"You did?" he asked, still not quite able to comprehend what was happening.

"Yes," she said simply, and without asking, took the scarf from his hands and began to tie it about his neck. Thomas was so surprised he simply stood there and let her tie it in a complicated knot at his throat. "When I saw the yarn in the shop, it struck me as so nice, and at first I couldn't think who it reminded me of," she continued. "But then I thought, who has beautiful blue eyes... and a kind smile..." She paused slightly, her voice becoming more serious. "...and who has had a little trouble keeping warm lately?" Her eyes met his when she said this last part, acknowledging silently that she had noticed he hadn't seemed warm all summer, following the events of that terrible day last spring, when he had lost so much blood. "And that had to be you," she said, still managing to hold his gaze.

Thomas swallowed. She smiled, dropped his gaze, and picked up his coat. She held it up for him, and he shrugged into it. He turned around to face her once more, and she adjusted his lapels around his new scarf, fastened the top three buttons for him, then stepped back slightly to admire her work.

"There," she said. "Don't you look smart? It really does bring out your eyes, if I may say." The playfulness was back in her voice, the smile back on her face.

"Thank you, Anna," he said finally. "This is very kind. I appreciate you thinking of me like this."

"Of course," she answered. "Now, off you go. You don't want to be late to wherever it was you were going."

He nodded, and turned to go. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror that hung opposite the bottom of the stairs, in his coat and new scarf. The color of the scarf really was lovely, and not only brought out his eyes, but made them seem softer. Kinder.

"Thank you," he said again, and walked toward the door. Anna smiled slightly as she watched him go.


End file.
